


News; Somewhat Unexpected.

by Chibihaku



Series: Kalasin Lavellan [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Arm trauma, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I despise tagging my own work, Named Inquisitor, Post Trespasser, Trespasser Spoilers, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:06:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibihaku/pseuds/Chibihaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had meant to tell him she was pregnant, she really had.</p><p>Only, he'd been away when she found out about it and it wasn't the sort of news you put in a letter.</p><p>Only, every time she tried, something else had come up.</p><p>Only, she had thought she was going to die and wanted to spare him the pain of losing two people if he could just lose one.</p><p>Only, he found out and the shit hit the fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... I hadn't meant to start writing this until after I finished Prodigal, but that damn fic is stalling in a big way and this one is pulling at my heart.
> 
> This was supposed to be a one-shot. I think it'll be a three-parter at most, but watch this space because I think this monster will grow as I'm feeding it.

“When were you going to tell me?”

The Inquisitor struggled to sit up on the linen cot she was in, hindered as she was by the fact that her arm was missing below the elbow. A thrill of nervous anticipation started pooling in her stomach, fuelled by pain and more stress than was really wise for her to be under.

“I’m sorry?” She pushed herself up, and looked over at Bull.

He was seated next to her cot, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees and hands folded between them. He was hunched over himself, all she could see of his head were his horns, sweeping out on either side, and his voice was like gravel when he repeated the question.

“When were you going to tell me, Kadan?”

She tried to wipe her hand through her hair, until with a cold stab of self-loathing she realised that the hand she’d tried to do it with was gone. She scowled at herself, shifted and looked away from him. There was no reason to ask him what it was that she was supposed to be hiding.

“When did you find out?”

She didn’t look at him as she spoke, instead focused on the nails of her remaining hand, clenching in the bedsheets.

“Healer,” Bull grunted, “Here I am, scared for your life and damn near flipping my shit and he comes out and says that he’s cauterised your arm and patched you up, and don’t worry because you’re both okay.” He looked up at her then, and his eye was flinty with controlled anger. “I gotta say, Kadan, that I never thought that I’d find out that my girlfriend was pregnant while she lay dying on a healer’s cot.”

Kalasin winced.

She pressed her lips together and the silence between the two of them stretched.

She felt very small, and very pained, and very ill.

“So now,” Said Bull, when it became obvious that she wasn’t going to speak, “I’m waiting for an explanation.”

Her hand clenched in the bedsheets again, and her stomach rolled.

She sucked in a long breath and let it out in a rush. She looked up at him once and then away, deciding that the safer option was to speak down to her blanket-covered legs.

“I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” She admitted, “I meant to tell you in person when you arrived to Halamshiral.”

She stared down at her blanket covered knees and ignored the throbbing pain where her arm used to be.

The silence Bull gave her in response to the statement was loaded with expectation; so after a long minute, she picked at a bit of lint and started to explain.

\---

The Inquisitor stood next to the Grand Enchanter and tried desperately not to throw up as a plate of Orlesian ham was offered to her by a servant in the colours of the Empress. She pressed her fingers to her lips, took in a deep gulp of air and let it out very, very slowly as her stomach rolled.

“Are you quite alright, my dear?” Vivienne asked, holding up a polite hand to wave the server away.

 Kalasin looked over at Vivienne and offered her a smile. “I’m just… here.” She said, after a moment, “In Halamshiral. Again.”

_And I’m simultaneously the hungriest I’ve ever been and completely unable to think about food without wanting to be violently ill. And it’s been this way for nearly four weeks now._

_Oh, and I’m exhausted beyond reason but still expected to argue my way through a pile of bureaucracy larger than I am._

Vivienne frowned, peering at the Inquisitor with the look of a woman who knew that she had just heard a lie, but couldn’t quite refute it. “Ah yes, the Winter Palace doesn’t agree with you, does it? I can quite understand the distress, darling, but you are a member of this society for all your resistance and this meeting does affect not only Orlais and Ferelden, but your Inquisition as well.”

“I am aware.” The Inquisitor replied dryly, feeling her stomach roll again. She pressed her hand to it for a moment and kept her troubled frown off her face.

“My darling,” Said Vivienne in a mild tone, “While your hatred of Halamshiral, at this point, is a well-established rumour in the Orlesian social circuits, it is the last thing that you want to do to add even more fuel to it. It hasn’t gone unnoticed by the nobility that you are yet to pay a single outright compliment to the palace or it’s grounds. Even what you said on the night of the Winter Ball was a passable comment at best.”

Kalasin sighed. “I know.”

It still baffled her, a little, that the nobility hadn’t worked out the reason why the _dalish_ elf hated the palace at _Halamshiral_ , but she was also very aware that she had to keep playing the game if she wanted the current political climate to shift at all.

Particularly with the quickly falling popularity of the Inquisition and, following from that, herself.

“I should have run back to my clan the instant Corypheus fell,” She muttered under her breath, ignoring Vivienne’s sympathetic and slightly scolding look, “Sometimes I believe Solas had the right of it.”

“My dear, you have done an exceedingly good job as Inquisitor, and you are aware that no-one else would command even half the respect that you have in the position,” The Grand Enchanter said, resting her hand on the Inquisitor’s shoulder, “This role suits you, even for all its drawbacks. I haven’t seen you this radiant in all the time I’ve known you.”

_Radiant._

Kalasin placed her hand on her stomach, and felt her expression twist.

_I suppose that’s one word for it._

The Grand Enchanter was waiting for her to reply.

“Vivienne, have you ever known me to respond the way you wish when you fish for information?” The Inquisitor asked in a mild tone.

“I have no idea what you mean, darling.”

“The spa was lovely, if odd. If I’m displaying any signs of radiance, it is more than likely to do with that.”

“And I see while it worked a treat on your appearance, it did little for your mood.” The enchanter’s tone was tight, but her eyes glittered with hidden amusement. Kalasin flicked her a wan smile as she folded her arms.

The mark on her hand stung her like a scorpion as it brushed against her other arm. She hissed in a breath through gritted teeth.

Vivienne looked towards her, worry in the set of her mouth, but there was a sudden loud shout from the main gates, a familiarly rambunctious call that banished most of the unpleasantness from Kalasin’s mind as soon as she heard it. What little remained was a slight uneasiness that she was tempted to blame on how unwell she felt, even though she knew it truly wasn’t.

Vivienne echoed the smile that split across the Inquisitor’s face with one that was rather more knowing than the one the Inquisitor gave, reaching out a hand and placing it on her shoulder.

“Alright, my dear, I will free you from this conversation as long as you promise me that you and Bull will not make a scene that I have to resolve at the main gates.”

“Thank you for the delightful conversation, Madame Vivienne.”

“Not at all, my dear. Do run along now.”

Kalasin had taken only a handful of steps away from the mage, when her voice made her turn.

“My dear,” Said Vivienne, stepping forward and laying her hand gently on the Inquisitor’s shoulder once more, “I do not mean to presume, but I have known many women in a similar situation as I believe you are in now. My advice would be to tell him as soon as you possibly can, to avoid any awkwardness in the future.”

“I...” Kalasin started, and then frowned, unsure of how to continue the sentence.

Vivienne smiled, “Tell him,” She said, and turned away, walking to a group of gathered nobles nearby and starting up a new conversation, easy as a breeze.

Kalasin turned away and moved towards the direction that she’d heard the shout come from.

As she walked, her uneasiness grew into something close to anxiousness, her heart fluttering in her chest. She remembered, abruptly, what it felt like when she was sitting in the surgery at Skyhold a week after the Chargers had left to fill a contract. When she had said she was feeling ill like she had a stomach bug, that she’d been tired to the point of exhaustion and that even for the nausea, she had put on a little weight; and the healer had looked her in the eye and delicately asked her when her last monthly had been.

The horror that had dawned within her as she realised it had been more than six weeks past.

An embarrassing test later involving an examination and an applied poultice and the healer had confirmed it.

And Bull was not due to return to Skyhold for several weeks – in fact, it had been arranged that she would meet him at the Palace for the sake of ease and convenience for all.

Kalasin remembered sitting in her tower, quill dripping ink on yet another piece of parchment, several other pieces already balled and thrown into the fireplace with a growing amount of frustration. How did one tell one’s partner something like this? How did she do it in a letter?

She had sighed explosively in frustration, balled up the next ruined sheet of paper and buried her face in her hands, ignoring the burn that raced down her left arm from the Mark. It would be better, she had decided, to tell him in person.

Kalasin was quickly discovering that no, this was not any better in person.

She moved through the crowds of nobles to where she could hear Bull booming orders to the Chargers.  For all her trepidation, that was still a comforting sound and she moved through the crowds towards it. She pushed through between two groups of nobles and saw Bull’s back – large and broad and scarred. He had one hand on his hip, and was pointing with the other at Rocky and saying something to Skinner. The dwarf was rolling a casket of ale in the direction of the tavern, while the elf nodded and moved away to unpack things from a large wagon pulled by a pair of draft horses nearly as large as the stable they were to be taken to. The other members of the Chargers were in motion, shifting crates and checking weapons and armour, working with the ease of a company that knew it’s fellows intimately. Even as Kalasin watched, Stitches threw something to Dalish without looking, and the elf caught it easy as a breeze, before returning to her task of cataloguing leftover rations.

Krem was standing to one side of the controlled chaos, arguing with one of the palace stewards about something or other, Kalasin noticed that a few coins were being passed in an underhanded manner. Krem was the first to notice that the Chargers were being watched – he jerked his head up at the sensation and looked around with a frown before he saw the Inquisitor standing at the edge of the crowd and away from the bustle of movement that was the mercenary company’s arrival. He grinned at her, shook his head at something the steward said, rolling his eyes very deliberately at Kalasin as he did so. She flashed him a smile and he echoed the expression, even as he slipped over another coin to the steward and signed a presented piece of paper. When the steward had moved away, he looked back at the others over his shoulder.

“Oi! Chief!”

Bull looked up from what he was supervising, towards his second. Krem jerked his head in Kalasin’s direction. Bull turned.

Kalasin felt herself relax minutely as she gave him a tiny wave. She was rewarded with a sharp edged grin, all teeth and casual ease. “Chargers!” Bull called, even as he started to walk towards her, “Get this crap dealt with, then you’re free to hit the bar.”

There was a chorus of assents from behind him as Krem seamlessly took over the process of ordering the others to work.

Kalasin became very aware that the chatter of the nobles around her hadn’t stopped, but it had quieted significantly as they watched her qunari approach. However, if they were expecting anything of a scandal, they were disappointed as when Bull reached her, he merely cupped her cheek in one hand and gave her a small, chaste kiss.

“Kadan.”

“Bull.” She said, in the same polite tone as he’d used.

There was a moment between them of pure silence, Bull’s hand still cupping her cheek, his smile fond, before he quickly blinked his eye closed, then open again.

“Wanna give the nobles a show?” He repeated the action with his eye, while his thumb slid over her vallaslin.

Kalasin felt her eyebrows rise. “Are you winking?” She asked, pretending to surprise, “Is that thing you’re doing with your eye supposed to be winking?”

“Don’t be cruel, Kadan.” Bull said, feigning hurt.

Kalasin couldn’t help it – longing and relief crashed into her at the sight of him and she burst into helpless laughter. He started chuckling too, pulling her off her feet into a hug that nearly crushed the air out of her. He stopped short of spinning her around, but she tangled her arm about his neck anyway, relishing in him, his warm arms around her, the comforting rumble of his breathing, the way she knew his hands would never, ever drop her.

She closed her eyes and let herself be enveloped, some of the tightness fading from her chest. “I missed you,” She whispered to him.

“Don’t have to miss me anymore,” Bull replied easily, putting her back down on solid ground.

He smelt of horse and sweat and travel, and also himself and the knot in Kalasin’s stomach loosened even further. She opened her eyes, gave him a grin that was probably a little bit too silly when they were standing in a public area of the Empress’ palace and leaned up to kiss him again.

Pain shot up her left arm.

 She dropped her arms from Bull’s neck and curled in around herself, gasping. She clenched her hand into a fist, ignoring the way that this made the pain worse, trying to keep the green light from being noticed by the gathered courtiers. Bull was blocking their view in an instant, she felt his presence shift to her back even as her eyes slid closed and two damp trails raced down her cheeks against her gritted teeth and shuddering breaths. Bull’s hands were on her shoulders, in her hair. His voice was a low rumble of soothing words next to her ear and she forced herself to focus on it, rather than on the burning racing up her arm.

And slowly, the pain faded again, back to the persistent background level she was used to dealing with. She felt the tenseness run out of her shoulders as she dropped her hand and turned, pressing her head against Bull’s chest as his hands came around her once more. She felt the brush of lips against her hair, then felt his hand running over the intricate series of braids that Josephine had woven into it for presentation’s sake. She could hear the titters and whispers of the courtiers around them, but she ignored them for favour of Bull – the smell of him was calming her, soothing her. His arms were warm and strong around her, his voice a low rumble that she felt through his chest more than heard.

“You okay?” He asked in an undertone, in the sort of detached voice he might have used if she’d stubbed her toe. She smiled against his chest.

“Not really, but I’m as good as I’m going to be.”

She stepped back and he let her go. He ran his hand down her arm and caught her wrist, tugging the mark towards him.

“You know it’s getting worse.” He said, tight worry in his voice.

“I know.” She sighed, “There’s not really much I can do about it, though.”

“Kadan –”

“Don’t.” She looked away from him, and then back, “Please. I haven’t seen you in so long – let’s not let this stupid thing ruin it.” She tugged her hand back and he let go, a frown on his face that promised more discussion later.

There was a pause, and within it, some of the creeping anxiety crawled back into Kalasin’s stomach. “Bull,” She began, hesitating only slightly before she hardened her resolve and pressed on, “There’s something I need to –”

“Inquisitor!”

Both she and Bull looked over in the direction of the voice. A man in the livery of Halamshiral was approaching them, an air of importance about him. He stopped in front of the two of them, and passed a rolled piece of parchment to the Inquisitor. She looked at him, then down at the paper in her hand and frowned.

“What is it?” She asked, letting her tone turn authorial.

“You have been summoned to the grand chamber at once, my lady.” The man said, punctuating the statement with a short bow, “You are to attend with me at the soonest possible moment.”

Kalasin frowned and opened her mouth to speak an angry retort, but the back of Bull’s fingers gently stroking down her neck stopped her. He kissed her hair, once, then said from somewhere above her, “Duty calls, huh, Kadan? Go be important. I’ll see you in the tavern later.”

And with that, Kalasin had no choice to follow the messenger as he began to walk away.

\---

“No,” Said Bull in a voice like controlled thunder, “You do not get to blame this on me.”

“Why not?” Kalasin asked tartly in response, “You’re the one who put it in there.”

His answering rumble was that of a man trying to get his temper under control.

She chanced a glance at him, to be met with him sitting with his head bowed, hands pressed to his face and shoulders bunched with tension. She sighed, looked away and brought her hand up to the stump of her missing arm. “I’m sorry,” She said after a long moment, “That was unworthy of me.”

Bull said nothing.

She sighed and moved her hand from the aching stump of her arm to her belly. “I honestly intended to tell you, Bull.”

“We’ve done shit all but be in each other’s company this past week, Kadan. I’m still wondering when you were going to tell me, if you _intended_ to.”

She winced at his tone.

“It wasn’t that simple.”

“Actually, yeah, it kinda was.”

She looked around at him and he was glaring at her again, piercing green eye the colour of storm’s seafoam.

“It was that simple, Kadan, and you fucked it up.” His tone turned harsh and bitter, “Two words. Three if you used my damn name. You really want me to believe that shit’s hard?”

She blinked back a sudden burning in her eyes and swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been for you, Bull, but it certainly was difficult for me.”

\---

The bread she’d stolen from the kitchens was doing little to curb her hunger as she walked back towards the main courtyard. She pulled another piece off of the roll with her fingers, and placed it in her mouth thoughtfully.

Never in her life had she been so hungry, and never had she seemed to gain so little pleasure from the simple act of eating.

“Your Worship!”

Kalasin sighed and looked up and around, before flushing slightly and breaking into a smile.

“Krem, how was your trip?”

The man shrugged as he approached, “Same as they always are – uneventful but somehow the start of a weird story.”

“Any squirrels this time?” Kalasin pulled another piece of bread off the roll.

“Not a one, thank the Maker.”

Kalasin blinked, then squinted suspiciously at the man in front of her. There was a furtive air about him, something in the way his shoulders were hunched inward and his hands were twitching at his sides. Krem normally stood straight-backed and proud, or at the very least leant on one leg with his hands folded across his chest. This behaviour wasn’t normal for him in the slightest.

“Alright, Aclassi, spit it out.”

The man gave a full body flinch that would have been hilarious had the Inquisitor been in the mood to appreciate it.

“I don’t know what you mean?” The man said, shoulders rising with his voice.

Kalasin raised her eyebrow and waited.

It didn’t take long for Krem to crack, “Alright!” He said, flapping a hand at her, “I was going to ask you to help anyway.” He slung a casual arm about Kalasin’s shoulder, “Look,” He said, “It’s the Chief’s birthday today and –”

“Qunari have birthdays?”

Krem paused, “Well,” He said, “We’re not sure. But the Chargers and I have a day that we’ve called his birthday and he plays along every year, so there’s that.”

“If this is going in the direction I think it’s going, Krem –”

“What?” Asked the man, then realisation dawned on his features, “No. _No_. Nothing like that. I think that’s probably the last thing that I or any of the Chargers actually want to think about. I mean, we fully support you and the Chief down to a man, but we’d really rather not consider the particulars… that is… um…” He stammered to a stop, looked at her, coughed politely, “I mean, no disrespect, of course, your Worship.”

“None taken.” She felt the smirk threatening to split her features win out, and when Krem noticed the expression, his face tugged into a frown.

The smirk broke into a full grin.

“Anyway,” Krem said, scowling momentarily before falling back into his explanation, “While we were out on that contract, Skinner was scouting and came across a dragon skeleton. The Chief just about wet himself with glee when we found it and he was heartbroken when we couldn’t bring it back to Skyhold with us.”

“Krem, for the sake of my sanity, please tell me you didn’t bring a dragon skeleton to the Winter Palace.”

“We didn’t bring a _whole_ dragon skeleton to the Winter Palace,” Krem answered promptly.

The Inquisitor sighed in relief, “Good.”

“Just the skull.”

Kalasin levelled a glare at the man.

“It’s for his birthday.” Krem said, like it was a suitable defence.

Kalasin took a few calming breaths before she responded to that. “Alright. Spectacularly bad judgement aside, what do you need me to do?”

Krem grinned. “We need you to keep the Chief distracted for a while so that we can surprise him with it,”

There was a beat of time where neither said anything, then,

“C’mon, your Worship, don’t look at me like that. If anyone can keep a secret from him, it’s you.”

Kalasin gave a long-suffering sigh.

“You want me to distract the ex-Ben Hassrath agent from you and the other Chargers long enough for you to move a dragon’s skull, something very large and heavy, through a well-populated thoroughfare, more than likely creating a lot of noise and interest in the process, while you attempt to keep this hidden from said spy.”

“Well, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound like the best idea.”

“That would be because it isn’t the best idea. At all.”

Krem grinned at her. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, relenting.

“Alright, no promises, but I’ll try.”

She moved away from the lieutenant, towards the open doorway of the tavern. It was a beautiful building, she noticed, though she didn’t expect anything else from a building on the grounds of the palace. Trellises lined the outside of the tavern, creeping vines in full bloom let a sweet perfume into the air that covered, only slightly, the smell of ale and alcohol that came from within.

When she entered, she saw Bull precisely where she expected the qunari to be, seated at the bar and laughing with some of the Orlesian servants. She smiled and slipped towards him, running her fingers over his shoulders when she reached him. He looked up at her and grinned, bringing her hand around to his lips and kissing her fingertips once before his grin turned devilish and he nipped at them. She gasped, pretending to be offended, and pulled her hand back at once.

“Kadan,” he said, not quite laughing, but mirth alight in his eye, “What brings you here?”

She smiled at him, “You, actually.”

She sat in the seat next to him, raising her eyebrow when his hand somehow managed to find its way to her thigh, and squeeze. A smirk like a serpent slipped across his face, “What can I help you with?”

Kalasin shuddered out a breath, resisting the urge to press into the hand that was really a little too high for decency. “Stocks!” She yelped, probably a little bit louder than she’d intended, “What do you think about stocks?”

The next few minutes rushed past in an agonising blur of embarrassment for the poor elf – her normal manner thrown entirely by both the fact that she was trying to hide a secret from Bull and that somehow her mind had decided to abandon all _sense and reason_ in the wake of Bull’s fingers rubbing slightly over her leg, moving in small, circular motions that demanded most of her attention. His eye, when he caught hers, was sharp as glass and his voice was a knife wrapped in roses, pitched at just the right rumble to draw her in and make her shiver. His fingers slipped higher and her breath caught – She could feel the tips of her ears heating. It had been _so long_ since she’d seen him – And she wanted – she wanted –

Bull was smirking at her.

“Everything alright, Kadan?”

Kalasin startled like a deer and stared at him for a long moment, at the smirk that now was slowly pulling back into a full grin. Then she blinked, once, and realised what he had been doing.

She put her head into her hands, ignored the pain that raced up her arm, and _groaned._

“I can’t do this.”

“Sure, you can. They must have got it halfway across the room by now.”

She glared over her fingers at him, and at the smug expression he was wearing. “I hate you.”

He merely laughed.

She was saved, however, by the Chargers _finally_ reaching them, Krem’s call of “Surprise!” and Bull’s answering enthusiasm pulled her out of hiding, even as she felt her cheeks burning. He stood, laughing, and she watched as he moved towards his Chargers, broad muscles shifting in interesting ways under the play of dappling light. He slapped Krem on the back and wrapped an arm around Dalish, squeezing her shoulders tightly. The other Chargers were treated more sedately, but he still made sure to thank each in turn, then stepped back and admired the skull, walking around it and sizing it up from every possible angle.

_Oh, how I love that man._

A wave of melancholy washed over Kalasin as she watched Bull and the Chargers, a small smile pulling at her lips when Bull boomed out a laugh at something Rocky said, shooting back a reply with a razor grin.  The qunari turned to the nearest of the servants, a young man in the livery of Orlais, and flapped his hand to call the man over.

“A round!” He laughed, “For me and my boys!”

Sera perked up at this from where she sat on the end of one of the tables, “I’m one of the boys, right?” She called to Bull across the heads of the other patrons.

“Of course you are!” Bull bellowed back, and raucous laughter rang out, followed by cheering and insistence from other people in the bar that they, too, were ‘the boys.’

Kalasin let out a tiny, slightly watery laugh at the scene, even as a different servant came up to her – a blonde elf in Inquisition heraldry, and with impeccable posture – and asked, “And you, your Worship?”

She gave a tiny nod to the other elf, “No, thank you. Just water and some bread, if you have it.” Then, she looked around at the people who were in the tavern and paused when she noticed how freely flowing the ale had become.

“Actually, could you please ensure that there’s food enough for the whole tavern? Tell the Halamshiral staff that we’ll reimburse them any costs.”

The elf looked at her dubiously, “I doubt it would stop their hangovers, my lady.”

“I am aware.” The servant grinned at the wry twist in Kalasin’s voice, “But we can lessen them a little.”

“As you wish, your worship.” The servant paused, then frowned, “If you don’t mind me askin’, my lady, is everything alright?”

“Oh yes,” the Inquisitor said around a sudden lump in her throat, “It’s just that the embrium is always bad at this time of year.” She reached up a hand and wiped away the tear that streaked down her cheek.

“Of course, my lady.” Said the elf.

She went to move away, then paused and looked back at Kalasin, “If it’s not too impertinent to say, your Worship, the servants all think he’s a good man and it’s a good match.”

“It is impertinent,” Kalasin replied, “But I’ll allow it.”

The elf smiled, dipped into a small bow, and moved away.

Kalasin wiped her eyes with her thumb.

“You’re not sad,” Said Cole, suddenly by her elbow, “But you are.”

Long association with the spirit meant that Kalasin didn’t jump, but she did look over at him, askance.

He was hiding under his hat, rocking on his feet ever so slightly and fidgeting just the smallest amount. His hands rubbed over one another, and his back was hunched into his normal stoop, ready to fight or flee at the smallest action.

“Two voices,” He said, nervously, “One strong, tired, sad but not. Weary and just beginning to hope. The other, faint, only forming but finding familiarity. Warm and quiet and dark. Flashes without thought – safety, strength, love.”

Cole looked up at her, eyes a piercing, glacial blue.

“She loves you.” He said each word carefully, like he was testing their truth before he spoke, a touch of confusion in what he was saying, but still full of conviction, “A voice not yet formed, except for love.”

The spirit peered at her as she placed a hand on her abdomen. Kalasin stared back, wide-eyed and shocked beyond words.

A lingering seed of denial faded in her mind, and like a fog slowly lifting something occurred to her as she stared at the spirit of compassion in front of her.

“This is real.”

Cole ducked back under his hat, wringing his hands together. “If you were someone else, I’d make you forget. But you wouldn’t like that.”

“You’re right,” Kalasin said, “I wouldn’t.”

She looked away from the spirit, back to the bar proper. Cole stood next to her for a moment as she watched Bull laugh and shove Grim with one hand. The quiet man smiled slightly and raised his glass to the qunari.

“He would want to know,” Cole said.

“I’ll tell him,” She promised the spirit, as Rocky stood on top of the dragon’s skull and cheered, before Skinner snapped something waspishly at him and he fell into a laughing heap on the floor, “But not now, not when the Chargers spent so long planning this for him. I won’t take this from them.”

“He would want to know,” Cole said again, “So he could love her too.”

\---

“Her.”

Kalasin looked up in time to see a flash of… something… cross Bull’s face.

At some point, one of his hands had come to rest on the bedsheets and when she flicked her eyes downwards again, she noticed that it was tightly clenched.

She carefully reached out, watching his reaction closely, and brushed the tips her fingers against his knuckles. His hand relaxed, then slowly turned over so that he could grip her palm, his thumb rubbing against the bone of her wrist.

She chanced a glance up at his face again.

He was looking down to where his hand held hers on the bedsheets.

“You’re sure Cole said ‘her’?” He asked, voice roughened with emotion.

Kalasin swallowed, uncertain. Bull looked up at her, and this time she recognised the emotion in his eye for what it was.

_Hope._

She gave him a small, tentative smile, and nodded.

“It’s a girl?”

There was no mistaking the reverent tremble in Bull’s voice – not when his hand clenched tighter about her own, not when he reached up his other hand to brush his fingers over the side of her face.

“Cole thinks so.”

He jerked forward and pulled her to him, crushing her into a hug. She yelped as burning, excruciating pain shot up the ruin of her arm, making red flash across her vision as her whole body tensed. Her mind narrowed down to the agony of it, hot and bright and sour on her tongue, snarling around her and trying to pull her down.

She was dimly aware of Bull swearing, low and guttural, and his grip around her relaxed, some of the pain ebbing with it. She wrapped her remaining arm around him and clung on, breathing harshly and pressing her face against his chest as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She focused past the pain still pulling at her, let herself be caught up in the smell of him, the warmth of his skin, the subtle shaking running through him under the too-tight press of her fingers.

One of his hands was in her hair, the other was more gingerly wrapped around her, and she was aware of his voice whispering soothing nothings between the feel of lips brushing the top of her head.

The low rumble of his voice slowly pulled her back and as she sucked in breaths through clenched teeth, the pain slowly ebbed to dim, bearable pulses – the same background throb it had been since she had started this conversation with him.

“Shit, Kadan,” Bull breathed into her hair, “I’m sorry.”

She rubbed her face against his chest, trying not to move her upper body, trusting him to hold her up and still, “I’m okay.”

His answering chuckle rumbled through her, the pain snarled at her senses, but didn’t flare again. “No,” He said, “You’re not. You’re tired and hurting and in pain, and I’m making it worse.”

She smiled at the tiny distinction he had made.

“Shit,” She said, in her best impersonation of his voice, “It’s not like you didn’t have a reason for it, Vhenan.”

He drew her in, more carefully this time, tucking her head under his chin and carefully pulling the blanket around her.

“It’s a girl,” He said again, with quiet awe, like he was still struggling to believe it, “I’m gonna be a _dad._ ”

Something in Kalasin’s chest snapped at that, a tension she didn’t know she’d been carrying, and hope flared within her hot and bright like a summer’s day. She sagged in relief against him, a question she didn’t know she’d had inside her answered in that one sentence.

_He’ll stay. He won’t leave._

_He’ll stay._

She closed her eyes against the sudden wet heat that bloomed behind them.

She couldn’t have said how long they stayed like that, but as they rested, quiet and still, she felt the stress of the last week catching up to her, pulling at her consciousness in the form of a bone-deep exhaustion.

“Sleep, Kadan,” Said a voice above her and very far away, a voice she adored more than any other.

She slept.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm mentioning this because this chapter has a thing in it that might make people uncomfortable. There's mention of past-potentiality of Adoribull in one of the scenes and I'm fore-warning about it because I know some people really don't like anything to do with that pairing. Bull is the person who mentions it, to Dorian, and he's kind of a dick about it as well. I don't think that it's triggery per se, but if someone does find it triggery let me know and I will tag as such. It's kind of important at that point of the story and Bull is using it to make a point, but I don't want to inadvertently upset someone because I am not an asshole and I know this type of thing can be upsetting if not pre-warned.
> 
> Also, can I say a big thank you to everyone for the sheer, staggering amount of kudos last chapter received? It is incredible to me that this was received so well. I hope you like this chapter just as much.

“How is she?”

Bull looked up from his vigil of the Inquisitor, across the small room to where Krem was standing in the doorway. He grunted at his Second and leant back in the chair he was sitting on, ignoring the way it creaked at his weight. “She’s tired,” He said in response to the question, “Also hurting.”

Krem moved around the bed, brushing his hand along the soft, white bedsheet. He came to stand at Bull’s shoulder, folding his arms across his chest and looking down at the small elf in the bed. Kalasin’s eyes were closed, lashes brushing across her cheeks and her breath was even and deep. She looked tiny in the bed, diminished even more with her missing arm and the deep bags under her eyes, present even in sleep.

“What about you?” Krem asked, smoothing out the blanket absently.

Bull rolled a shoulder, “About the same. Bit less than she is.”

Krem gave one short “Ha” that could have been a laugh, before he fell silent, looking at the bed again, eyes focused on the Inquisitor’s face.

The two men let the silence linger for a while – it wasn’t in any way uncomfortable, after all – and Bull reached forward to wrap his hand around the Inquisitor’s.

“I should warn you that what she did is all over Halamshiral,” Krem said quietly, “Getting grander with every telling, too.”

“Missing body parts tend to bring out the best stories.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Nah, I got to create half of mine,” He looked up at Krem, “You ruined that one with the Boss, though - I was gonna try and see whether she’d believe the one about the giant crow on the border of Antiva.”

“I’ve a feeling she’s the kind of person that prefers the truth.”

Bull felt his mouth tilt into a smile as he looked back down to his kadan, gently squeezing her hand. The news slipped out before he could stop it, “She’s pregnant.”

Krem was silent for a moment, then, strangled, he said, “Chief, either that’s the quickest damn pregnancy I’ve ever heard of or I’m about to get real angry at you for letting her go after the qunari.”

Bull scowled, “I didn’t know.”

Krem startled next to Bull, and then Bull felt his second’s eyes on him as the other man gave a low whistle, “In that case, I’m glad I wasn’t here for _that_ conversation.”

Bull let out a rueful laugh, “It was about what you’d expect. Lot of getting pissed at each other, not nearly enough make-up sex.”

“She’s just recently had her arm cut off, Chief,” Said his second, “I think the sex is gonna have to wait awhile.”

“Well, yeah. I’m not an _asshole._ ”

“You do an excellent impression of one, though.”

Bull looked sharply up at Krem. The man was smiling faintly and deliberately avoiding his gaze.

“You’ve got a shit sense of humour, Aclassi. Anyone ever told you that?”

“Comes from hanging around you for too long, Chief.”

Bull used the hand not holding Kalasin’s to give Krem a shove. His second rocked on his feet, grinning.

Bull shook his head, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his mouth, even as the two of them fell into silence again.

Krem shifted on his feet slightly on the edge of Bull’s vision, looking down at Kalasin and then thoughtfully over at Bull before he returned his gaze to the elf in the bed. He opened his mouth like he was considering speaking, then closed it again.

Bull sighed, “Just ask, Krem.”

His second jumped, almost guiltily, before he gathered himself and, almost timidly, brought himself to ask, “Do you regret it?” Then, as an afterthought, “Leaving the qun, I mean?”

Bull’s immediate reaction was to demand what kind of question that even was, but he squashed it, instead giving his reply a little more thought. He looked at his second and squeezed his kadan’s hand before he replied with, “Nah.”

He leant back in his chair, “Though sometimes the thought of what I’d do if anything happened to you or her scares the shit out of me.” He sighed and closed his eye, keeping his voice even when he said, “She nearly died, Krem. Toss of a coin how close it came.”

\---

Kalasin fell out of the Elluvian, screaming.

Bull felt his heart shudder in his chest as he watched her crumple to the ground in slow motion. Then, he caught up with himself and pushed through Cassandra and Dorian to get to his kadan, falling to his knees next to where she writhed on the ground.

Her hand exploded with green lightning that raced all over her, making her cry out again in a voice already hoarse from screaming. Her back arched off the ground, all her muscles taught, face contorted into pure agony.

“Kadan!” Bull’s hand hovered in the air above the elf as she thrashed. She threw her arm as far away from herself as she was able to, even as it pulsed again.

“We must do something!” Cassandra said sharply, stepping forward.

“Oh, of _course,_ ” Dorian sneered from Bull’s other side, Bull glanced up at him only to see a man pale with stress and worry, “We wouldn’t have thought of that!”

The light faded slightly, before with a sharp crack it redoubled, bathing them all in sickly green.

Kalasin cried out, but as Bull watched her, she forced her eyes open, staring blindly about herself. “Cut –” She whimpered, eyes squeezing closed before she forced them open again, “Bull? Vhenan – where –”

“I’m here,” Bull ran a hand over her hair, forcing the tremble out of his voice as her eyes, unseeing, snapped in his direction. They were full of such pain, such _agony_. “I’m here, Kadan. Look at me, just at me.”

He felt his register drop into something gentle and soothing, and as the light in her hand flickered, he fought the tightness in his chest. He brushed a piece of hair away from where it had become stuck to her face with sweat, forced himself to give her a reassuring smile.

“Cut it off – please –”

Bull pressed a thumb to her lips, she quieted obediently.

He closed his eye and felt himself become hard. “I’ll hold her down,” He said to the others, refusing to let his panic show in his voice, refusing to give in to the urge to stoop his shoulders and curl protectively around her, hold her tight so the world couldn’t hurt her anymore. He felt himself shift, felt Bull take a backseat to Hissrad, familiar as wrapping himself in a blanket and still easy even for all the time it had been since he’d last needed this part of himself.

He opened his eye and looked behind him to where Dorian and the Divine stood by.

“Cassandra,” He said, and she nooded, moving forward as he gently spread Kalasin, pressing her down when she tried to thrash away from him and curl in on herself. He gently took her hand, ignoring the feel of the magic as it bit into him like a snake, and pulled it as far away from her body as he could manage.

“You can’t be _serious!_ ” Dorian snapped suddenly, pushing his way towards Bull, chest swelling with anger, “She needs a _healer._ ” He grabbed at Bull’s shoulders like he was going to shake the qunari. Bull ignored him. “We need to get back to Halamshiral!”

“No,” Cassandra’s voice was firm, “Bull is right, she needs the mark gone.”

“She’s _dying._ ”

“The mark is what is killing her, Tevinter!” The Divine snapped.

_And if it does, I will hunt Solas down and make him scream for mercy before I kill him._

Bull kept his expression completely flat. “Dorian, you need to heat Cassandra’s sword. The wound’ll need to be cauterised as we make it.”

“How can you be so infuriatingly calm about this?” The other man demanded as Bull pressed his hand down, just above Kalasin’s elbow, to hold her arm in place. He used his other hand to hold her opposite shoulder, tried not to see the way that her head was thrashing back and forth. Bull looked up only once, long enough to give the Vint a flat look before he looked back to what he was doing.

He didn’t know what Dorian saw there, but it was enough to make him pale even further.

“Maker,” Dorian said, quietly enough that Bull assumed he didn’t know that Bull could hear him, “You’d kill us all if you had to, wouldn’t you?”

“You know what I am, Vint, probably better than anyone else here,” Bull concentrated on keeping his hands steady, but he heard the betraying rumble in his voice, “So heat up that damn sword and do what you have to, to save the Inquisitor’s _fucking_ life.”

As if to punctuate the sentence, a scream tore itself from the Inquisitor’s throat as garish green light danced over her once more.

“Vishante Kaffas!” Dorian pushed his hand through his hair, straightened his robes and scowled, “Hold out your _bloody_ sword, then!”

Cassandra did so, and the mage channelled flames into it, making it glow with a low, red heat.

“Watch your swing, Seeker,” Bull said, “I don’t want to lose any more fingers.”

Cassandra glared at him, “Hold her well and you won’t.”

Even with the situation, Bull found himself saying, “Don’t worry, I’ve had lots of practice holding her down.”

Cassandra grunted in disgust, even as her sword began to glow too brightly to look at directly. “On three, then.” She said to Bull.

He tightened his grip on Kalasin, pressing down and shushing her quietly when she tried to writhe in pain. She stilled.

“One,” Said Cassandra, lining the glowing blade up with the joint of Kalasin’s elbow.

Bull let himself have a moment, then. He looked down at the Inquisitor’s face, let his eye trace across her vallaslin before venturing to her own hazel eyes, glazed as they were with pain and looking at something so far away from him. “Breathe, Kadan,” He told her softly, matching his breath to her pants, then slowing his breathing to get her to match. She copied him, moaning quietly, beyond words.

“Two.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Dorian said quietly, “Can we please just get this over with?”

The mark on Kalasin’s hand flared, almost in defiance of them, and she screamed, back arching, shoulders thrashing wildly against Bull’s hold.

“Now, Seeker!”

Cassandra raised her glowing sword high above her head and brought it down in a shattering blow that severed the Inquisitor’s arm at the elbow.

The effect was immediate – Kalasin’s scream fell away into a low, sobbing whimper, and she stilled to trembling in Bull’s hands. Cassandra kicked the severed arm away from her in disgust and the light built within it, burning from within and bathing them all in a sickening green light. As Bull watched, the limb disintegrated, filling the air with the stink of ozone and burnt flesh.

Bull took in a deep breath through his nose, shut his eye for a moment and forced himself to be grounded, even as his head swam with relief.

When he could trust himself to speak, he opened his eye and looked towards Cassandra. “Bandages,” he said, and the woman jolted slightly at the clinical tone he used. The Divine straightened, and though she had paled significantly enough that her scar stood out angry red on her face, she moved into action, pulling out a roll of clean linen from her travel kit and passing it to Bull with shaking fingers.

Bull nodded at her and turned to Dorian. “She needs healing.”

The mage baulked slightly, but he stepped forward, crouching down next to the elf, who seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness.

He held his hands over the ruined stump of her arm and Bull was suddenly bathed with a new green light. This one, however, was the green of a spring dawn and not the sickly light of the mark, and as he watched, the wound started to slowly knit back together.

Kalasin made a tiny noise caught between a whimper and a sigh, and as the tension left her body, Bull felt himself relax along with her. He allowed himself a moment of tenderness, rubbed his fingers gently against her shoulder. “You’re okay, Kadan. You’re doing great.”

He ignored Dorian’s sharp, accusatory look, in favour of letting his eye trace the freckles on Kalasin’s face.

The healing pulse slowly faded, leaving a wound that looked to be about a week old instead of only moments, and Bull gently wrapped the bandage he held around the stump of the Inquisitor’s elbow. As he was working, his kadan finally lost her battle with consciousness and passed out.

“We need to get her back to Halamshiral,” Cassandra said quietly, “There is better care there, and people who need to be informed of the events that have taken place.”

Bull swallowed, reached his fingers to Kalasin’s face and brushed his thumb over her vallaslin. Then he gently scooped her up into his arms. “Lead the way, Seeker.”

He ignored Dorian’s eyes burning holes into his back as he followed the Divine through the series of Elluvians that led them back to the palace.

\---

Krem punched Bull in the shoulder.

Bull turned to look down at his second, raising an eyebrow.

“Careful, Chief, that sounded a hell of a lot like you actually having feelings beyond killing things.”

Bull grinned razor sharp at the man, dropping Kalasin’s hand and folding his arms over his chest, “Can’t have that, can we?” He asked with a chuckle, “People’ll take advantage.”

“I doubt anyone’s taken advantage of you in your life,” Krem shot back, “Though it’s always fun watching ‘em try.” He sobered and looked down at the sleeping Inquisitor.

“So she’s pregnant, huh?”

“Apparently so.”

“You know; it should be harder than it is to imagine you as a dad.”

Bull looked sideways at him, “Well, I’m not lacking experience in getting certain little shits to do what I tell ‘em.”

Krem grinned at that. “I think it’s a bit different, Chief.” He considered the small form on the bed, “For her sake, I hope they’re not anywhere near as big as you.”

Bull opened his mouth to retort to that, but was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door to the small room.

Both he and Krem looked up. The door swung open and, steely-faced, Dorian looked in.

The mage glanced around the room before his eyes met Bull’s face.

“A word,” He said, scowling.

Bull felt his eyebrow climb, “What can I help you with?” He kept his tone and face impassive, his body relaxed.

“In private, if you please.”

Bull glanced down to Krem, who shrugged incredulously, “Go, Chief,” His second said, “I’ll find you if she wakes up.”

Bull slowly rose to his full height, clasping his second on the shoulder before ambling around the bed towards Dorian. The man stepped out of the doorway and allowed him to pass into the hallway beyond and as he did, Bull looked down at him with a calculated look of consideration.

Dorian met Bull’s flat look with a sharp one, tilting his chin up so that he could meet Bull’s gaze.

“This way.” He set off down the hallway, Bull followed.

The Vint led Bull through the quieter parts of Halamshiral, taking a circuitous route that led them away from any prying eyes. Eventually, the mage stopped, stepping into a small, secluded alcove with a low privacy screen and a small statuette of some important human or another, one which was ringed with a low stone wall.

“Sure you don’t want an audience for this, Vint?” Bull asked as he looked down at Dorian, whose glare had grown into a fierce scowl as they walked, “Not afraid the Ben Hassrath will disappear you if you’re alone with me?”

“Is that what you are?” Dorian asked bluntly, looking at Bull like he was poison.

Bull sighed and resisted to press his fingers to his eyepatch in an attempt to soothe the headache that was forming behind it. He shifted past Dorian and lowered his weight down to the small, stone wall that ringed the statue of His Royal Whoever. He pulled his shoulders inward and rested his forearms on his legs, making himself smaller, more approachable.

“If I was still Ben Hassrath, do you really think I’d tell you?”

“I don’t suppose you would,” Said the mage, “But you told us quickly enough the first time.”

Dorian sighed, folding his hands across his chest, “I suppose if this were some elaborate plot to have the Inquisitor fooled into letting the qunari invade, I’d safely say that it failed,” He said, “However, it does seem that you’re entirely too able to switch off your emotions when it pleases you.”

Bull didn’t laugh. He considered what the Vint said, and then gave his reply the same treatment, “Dorian, if I was still Ben Hassrath, either you, the Inquisitor and the Divine would be dead, or I would be.” He said at last, quietly and surely enough that the Vint couldn’t possibly doubt the meaning behind his words.

Dorian caught it, “The Viddasala asked you for help.”

“And I said no.”

“You said no,” Dorian repeated, “Are you telling me that even with the situation identical to what it is now, even with the friendships you’ve built with the Inquisition, even with the _Inquisitor_ , if you’d still been Ben Hassrath, you would’ve –”

Bull gave Dorian a flat look, “Friendship and love had nothing to do with it,” He said quietly, “I did my duty.”

Dorian visibly reeled, mouth twisting into a snarl.

Bull spoke before he had a chance to, “I’ve got near 40 years of history telling me to value duty over _everything else_ , Vint, plus what probably would have been two years of re-education if I’d gone back to Qunandar. If I’d been under the Qun, no matter what my personal feelings were, my duty would’ve been to kill you all when Viddasala asked.” He rolled his shoulder in a shrug, “You three probably would’ve killed me. It’d have ripped Kal’s heart out to do it, but she would’ve got the job done, even if you and the Seeker couldn’t.”

Dorian’s dark features were pale, “Surely you can’t think she’s that bloodthirsty.”

“She wants to live.”

Dorian blinked at the frankness in Bull’s tone. Then he rounded on the other man, snarling, “She thought she was going to die! She thought that she was throwing herself to her death stepping into that mirror, that it was the best thing to do in terms of the world, but probably something that’d guarantee her death!” He glared, “Doesn’t that counteract your precious little theory?”

Bull sighed, “A cornered cat will still fight a hungry dog even when it’s pretty sure it’s dead. It wants to live – it’s not gonna give up just because it’s done for. Hell, it’ll try to kill the dog out of spite if nothing else.”

“But the cat doesn’t love the dog.”

Bull blinked, then looked over at Dorian. The man was still furious, but there was something else in his body language now, something that on anyone else, directed at anyone else, Bull would have thought was pity.

“You know,” Dorian said quietly, “The one thing she’s been worried about all this time - even above the end of the world and the qunari invasion and the Inquisition itself – the _one_ thing, it’s been you.” He sighed and leant against the alcove wall, “She’s been worried about what this’ll do to you, what the qunari would do to you. When she found that letter that mentioned you by name, she nearly burst into tears on the spot. And you’re telling me that doesn’t matter? Are you even listening to yourself?”

“You asked me what I’d do if I wasn’t Tal Vashoth, Vint,” Bull said, “I told you. Don’t think that means I wouldn’t move the world itself if it stood between me and her now.”

Dorian’s eyes flashed, “You as good as told me that you’d put duty above love if you were still allied with the qun!”

“Yeah, and I’m _not_ still aligned with them!” Bull almost shouted, catching himself at the last minute and bringing his anger under control, “In another world where I was, I would have. Anything could have happened in another world, Dorian! She could’ve hooked up with someone else, she could’ve hooked up with no-one. She could’ve said no to my offer to join the Inquisition. I could’ve ignored her on that beach and left the Chargers to their deaths, Cassandra and I could’ve made good on our flirting, hell, I could’ve even fucked _you._ ” He took a steadying breath, “The thing is, those worlds don’t matter in this one. What _does_ matter, _here and now,_ is that everyone’s still here, alive, breathing and a little worse for wear, but _safe._ ”

Dorian blinked at his outburst, then frowned. “You would never have touched me,” He said, haughtily, “I have higher standards.”

Bull let out a surprised bark of laughter, “Of all the – _that’s_ what you took away from that spiel, Vint?” He shook his head, smirking faintly, “You know, it could’ve happened. You were curious ‘till you realised that the Inquisitor was interested, and I’m pretty damn persistent. It would’ve happened if I wanted it to.”

“You’re deluding yourself.”

Bull tilted his head to the side and raked his eye up and down the Vint, “Nah, I’m not, but you keep believing that.” He rolled his shoulder again, relaxing and giving the mage a faint smile, “I can’t help the way I think, Dorian, but don’t think for a second that because I _can_ be completely objective, I _am._ My duty is to her, the Chargers, and the Inquisition, in that order.”

“Do you love her?”

Bull frowned at him, “What kind of shitty question is that?”

“Do you love her, qunari, or not?” Dorian asked again.

“Not that it’s really your business, but I do.”

Dorian raked a hand through his hair and sighed, “Does she know that?”

Bull opened his mouth to snap an angry retort, but he suddenly found himself hesitating.

_She didn’t tell me she was pregnant._

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, even as a memory surfaced in him of her going boneless in relief in his arms at something he said, at something it made her realise. The tension that left her shoulders when she discovered that he wasn’t mad about the pregnancy itself, but the fact that she hadn’t told him.

_She thought I was gonna leave her._

The thought cut like a knife but it made too much sense to ignore. And he must have been staring at Dorian for a little too long because there was a rueful twist developing on the mage’s lips that meant Bull didn’t have to answer that question.

“Think on it, qunari,” The Vint said, tone lined with pity, before he turned and walked away.

Bull couldn’t bring himself to stop him.

He didn’t know how long he sat there on that wall, digesting this new piece of information, but eventually it grew a degree colder as night began to fall, and he forced himself up and moving back towards Kalasin’s room. Krem gave him a smile as he entered, and said something about going to meet Maryden, slapping Bull on the back as he passed. Bull filled the vacant chair and looked at his kadan, picking her hand off the blankets and holding it in both his own.

It was tiny, he thought as he looked at the fine-boned thing resting between his palms, far too fragile for what the world expected of it, but at the same time it was also calloused and capable and covered in freckles, rather like the woman it belonged to.

He loved her, she had to know that. She had to know that he was _here_ for her, that he’d help her with whatever she asked, whenever she asked it.

She had to know that this – _this,_ the two of them having a kid together – wasn’t something that he had thought he would’ve wanted, but now he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. A little slice of domesticity that thoroughly ruined the last shreds of his carefully cultivated image of destruction, and one that he couldn’t ever regret.

He laughed, “And it’s one more thing I can chalk up to my being a shit qunari,” He said to himself, “Not supposed to want this at all. Kids are Tamassran business and that’s where they’re supposed to belong.”

He let go of her hand with one of his own and rested it over her abdomen, “But this,” he said, “With you? There’s nothing I want more.”

The Vint was wrong – Kalasin knew that Bull loved her. It had to be obvious to anyone with eyes.

\---

The library had freaked Bull out and he was more than glad to be leaving it. He stepped through the dead land of the Crossroads at the back of their little band and watched the three others ahead of him. Cassandra had taken the lead, followed by Dorian, and Kalasin followed, looking about them with a look that flickered frequently between curiosity and loss.

He stepped towards her, letting the back of his hand trail across her shoulder and up to the high collar of her coat. He dipped his fingers under the collar and ran them across the cool skin of her neck, playing with the fine strands of hair that had escaped the elaborate braiding that the rest of her hair was confined in.

She shivered slightly and looked up at him.

“You okay?” He asked quietly, as she turned towards him, leaning into the hand that was now cupping her cheek.

“Fine,” She said in the same undertone, expression softening into a smile, hand (the one without the mark, Bull noticed) coming up to rest over his own, “Well, as anyone can be when their hand is trying to eat them.”

Bull caught the sharp intake of breath his body tried to make before it could. He frowned, but said nothing, rubbing his thumb across her cheekbone. Ahead of them, Cassandra turned and looked back, Bull waved her and the Vint on through the Elluvian. Cassandra went, but not without a faint frown, followed by the Vint.

Bull looked back to where Kalasin was leaning into his hand. His kadan smiled faintly at him.

“What about you?” She asked, “This can’t be easy.”

He grunted, “They’re trying to kill us,” He told her, “It makes sense to kill ‘em back. Glad it hasn’t been anyone I know, though, that’d suck.”

She gave a weak laugh, “I wish I could be half so practical.” She tilted her head so that she could drop a kiss onto his palm, “We should probably catch up to the others.”

She didn’t make a move to go, however, and he brought his other hand up to her waist, slipping it behind her and tugging her close. He leant down and pressed his forehead to hers, “You’re allowed to be angry about this shit, Kadan,” He said quietly, “If I was in your position, I’d be pissed.”

She smiled up at him, sliding the side of her nose against his, “At the moment, I can’t afford to be angry,” She said, “I need to finish this while I’ve the time left to do it and –”

“Katoh,” The word was something that escaped Bull, more than something that he chose to speak. He kissed her in punctuation, forcing her to stop speaking before she said anything that sounded even remotely like the word ‘die’. She sighed, pressing into the kiss but not kissing back, and he pulled away reluctantly, tucking her against him.

“I’m not gonna lose you to them, Kadan. It’s not gonna happen.”

“Bull –” Her tone was hesitant.

“No,” He said, sharply, “Tell ‘em to go fuck themselves if you have to, shout and scream and fight back. I’m _not_ going to lose you.”

_I can’t._

She pressed her head against his chest, hand still gripping his to her face, and he curled around her as much as he could while still being careful of her arm. If she noticed he was shaking, she didn’t say anything, instead she let herself be held, let him draw whatever comfort he could from her.

_You’re not going to die. The mark isn’t going to kill you. I won’t let it._

“We need to go,” Kalasin said quietly from where he was wrapped around her, “We need to let Halamshiral know what happened.”

He let her tug herself away from him, though he slipped his hand down her arm and twined their fingers together before she could get far. She looked at her caught hand and then up to him, “I mean it,” He said quietly, “I’m not going to lose you.”

She smiled, but it was a sad, resigned thing that Bull hated the look of. She tugged her hand out of his and turned back to the lit Elluvian. She walked forward a few paces before she gave a sharp hiss and curled around herself, pressing her hand to her abdomen, doubling over ever so slightly.

“Kadan?” Bull stepped forward.

She looked back at him, something troubled flickering through her eyes. Then, her expression sharpened, her hand came away from her stomach and she straightened. She was pale, though her eyes cleared in a sudden decision.

“I’m fine,” She lied, “Must have been hit with something, it’s probably just a bruise.”

Bull’s heart clenched as she flashed him a grin that would have been convincing to anyone else but him, and he found himself stilling as she turned back to the mirror and stepped through it without another word to him.

After a moment, he followed, heart in his throat.

_What was that about, Kadan?_

\---

Bull brushed his hand against Kalasin’s cheek, smiling faintly as she sighed and leant into it in her sleep. He leant forward and kissed her on the forehead.

“At least now I know what you lied to me about.”

A small crease had formed on Kalasin’s forehead when he pulled away, and he ran his thumb along it gently, trying to smooth out the worry that had been caused by whatever she saw in the Fade.

“I kinda know why you did it, too,” He told her sleeping face, “But you never had to lie to me. We’re in this together, you and me, and I’m supposed to be the one who looks after the shit that’s causing you problems.”

He stood up, leaning over her to straighten one of the blankets that had come loose, tugging it back around her, “As for what the Vint thinks about us – the only people who need to know what we are to each other are here in this room and everyone else can fuck right off. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Kadan, and when you wake up I’m gonna make sure you know it.”

When he’d first met her, she’d asked what the world would be like under the qun and he’d told her that while it was a great life for many people, it didn’t work for everyone.

It still was a good life, he knew, it had _been_ a good life when he’d lived it. But now, with her, the Chargers, with two years’ distance and a new adventure opening up in front of him, he couldn’t quite feel guilty about leaving it behind. It hadn’t been the life for him, even as long as he had taken to admit that to himself.

And this? This one? The one where he had his men at his back and his kadan at his side and (not yet, but soon) his babe in his arms and not to ever be taken from him?

Well, he wouldn’t have thought it was the life for him, but so far it seemed a pretty damn good fit.

He sat down again on the chair and tilted his head back on his neck, closing his eye and letting out a long sigh.

Kalasin woke up screaming.


	3. Chapter 3

The room was dark, lit only by the most limited amount of torches and heatglow coming from the doors and high windows on the left hand side. There was sulphur stink everywhere, and something old and bestial, tinged with disease and death.

Kalasin shared a glance with her followers. Cassandra scowled and Dorian shrugged, but Bull met her eyes and gave a slow, barely perceptible nod. She closed her eyes, swallowed, nodded back and turned to the room in front of them. She held out her hand, it pulsed green, adding a sick tinge to the shadows as she held it up so that they could all see. The room was a dusty storehouse, weapons and Gaatlok stacked along its’ sides, and an unlit furnace dominating the middle. There was a balcony to the high left of them, too high to reach and the walls were much too smooth to scale in any case. A door in front of them cut a break into the rows of weapons shelving, and there were two more doors mirrored on both side walls.

Her hand twinged and she hissed, biting her lip as a counterpoint of pressure fluttered in her abdomen. Guilt and bitter irony sung in her in equal measure – how was it that her body had decided to kill her just as it was trying to create new life? She sighed and put the point from her mind – it would do her no good to dwell on what she couldn’t help, even if it ate her inside when she allowed it to.

Bull’s eyes were on her back in a question she ignored, in favour of slinging her bow over her shoulder.

 _It’s better this way._ She rationalised to herself, _At least this way when the mark kills me he’ll only mourn for one of us._

The sentiment tasted like ash and dust, but her arm gave another painful throb that punctuated it for her, building steadily into a low hum of pain that trickled through her senses.

She sighed, sucked in a breath and braced herself, “Everyone, stand back.”

Cassandra and Dorian did so immediately, but Bull moved to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. She looked up and forced a smile, trying to ignore the worried frown on his face. “I’ll be alright.”

He lingered only a moment before he turned back and moved to join the others. The ghost of his touch made her shiver, even as the power in her arm built further. She sighed, braced herself, and let the power loose.

A pulse shot up her body as she unleashed the anchor, a feeling of pressure, released, accompanied with agony like knives forcing themselves under her fingernails. She cried out, sharply, barely able to hear herself over the blood rushing through her ears and the thunder raging around her. The energy left her in a rush, leaving her drained, every nerve ending flaring in an itching, pins-and-needles sensation, but blessedly, blessedly empty. She revelled in the emptiness, the lack of pain, for a moment, even as she already started to feel the itch under her palm that was the mark starting to build in power again.

 “You okay, Boss?”

She swallowed and curled her hand into a fist around the mark, “Fine,” She lied, flicking Bull a smile over her shoulder, “We need to go, the qunari would have heard that.”

Bull didn’t smile in return, “They did,” He said, tightly.

She looked up and around, then, to be greeted with the sight of qunari taking offensive positions around them. Bull came to stand behind her, Cassandra and Dorian moving to take up positions on the flank. Kalasin looked about herself and sighed, marked hand coming to the quiver at her side, other unslinging her bow from her shoulder.

“Be ready,” She said.

Vidasalla stepped through a doorway on the balcony above them, too high for a convenient arrow, but also far enough above them that she couldn’t attack either. She looked around at the gathered qunari, at Kalasin and her comrades and sneered.

“Hissrad!” She shouted, “Now!”

There was a sudden movement behind Kalasin, sharp enough to make her leap forward into a roll.

It was what saved her life. There was a sharp, burning pain down her back as Bull’s greatsword glanced down her. She cried out, rolling and coming upright, spinning as she moved, just in time to dodge another sword blow.

There was an outraged shout from Cassandra, and an incensed one from Dorian, and the qunari around them launched into battle. Kalasin only had the barest of time to spare to notice this, before the greatsword slammed into the ground near her again, sending up sparks as she pushed herself backwards. Magic raced past her, encasing a qunari that had been coming up her flank in flames, and the stench of burning flesh reached her just as she tumbled across the ground sideways, coming to her feet in time to see Bull advancing on her again.

She fumbled with an arrow in her hip holster, struggled to get it to her string, took three quick steps backwards as Bull advanced. He scraped his broadsword along the ground sending sparks shooting up at her, face completely cold and emotionless. Her foot landed awkwardly on a flagstone as she moved and she tripped, falling backwards. Bull’s blade came crashing down – she brought her bow up to defend herself and his sword smashed into it, severing it in two but giving her enough time to roll away. Pain stabbed through her back, then her hand, then her stomach as she staggered to her feet again, only to be hit by him charging at her. She flew across the room, back slamming into one of the scattered shelves, and she fumbled her hand behind her, grip landing on one of the qunari’s spears. She dragged it out and around – she had no clue how to use it, but it was similar enough to a staff – and levelled it at Bull.

He slashed at her, she caught the blow on the spear and turned it, using the momentum of his swing to slide her out into open space, even as he brought his blade around and down towards her head.

She brought the spear up into a block, stopping him from splitting her down the middle, though the power behind the blow was immense and she dropped to one knee from the force. Her heart was in her throat as she looked up to Bull once more, at the complete blankness on his face, the way his eyes didn’t hold even a hint of the warmth and kindness she normally saw.

Lightning shot from her hand, then, and she cried out, her grip on the spear slipping. She fell to the ground, Bull’s greatsword striking less than a fingers’ breadth from her head, and she rolled to her back as he loomed over her.

She was pinned, she couldn’t move. His sword was at her throat and there was no kindness left in his eyes.

“I loved you,” She told him, accusingly, as the spear fell from her fingers and skittered away across the ground.

“That’s what made it easy,” He replied, bringing the sword crashing down on her.

She woke, screaming, trying to dodge a blow that never came, trying to push up and away, to roll on ground suddenly soft and pliant under her. Her arms were tangled by something that she couldn’t get free of, legs no better – it was smothering her, holding her down, but she needed to get away, just _get away._

“Kadan!” A whipcrack to her left, sharp distress in the tone, and then Bull loomed in front of her like a demon. She yelled again, trying to push back, to escape, but her _arm_! Her arm wasn’t doing what she told it to do – it failed to hold her weight and she went crashing down to her back again, tangled up in the softness around her. In desperation she rolled to her side and curled around herself, arms coming to cover her abdomen, _protect, protect, protect_ , even if it was a futile cause.

The blade never came.

She shivered, tense and frightened, waiting for the bite of steel, the hot feeling of metal cutting into her, and was given instead a large, gentle hand on her back that she flinched violently away from. The hand retreated, and a voice came forward instead, gentle and soft and containing none of the cold ruthlessness she was expecting.

“Hey, it’s okay,” came the gentle rumble, “Feel what’s underneath you, what’s around you.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, but as no sword blow came, she felt the adrenaline slowly leaving her somewhere warm and soft.

“Smell that?” Said the voice, “Someone’s put Crystal Grace in your room. Typical Orlesians to use it for decoration when it’s better suited for medicine, and you in a damn sick bed.”

She let her eyes slide open, to be greeted with folds of fabric. Silk wrapped around her arms and cotton above and below her. The cot she was on was soft enough that she thought it could be goose feather underneath her. There was a cold breeze coming in through an open window somewhere, she could feel it across the cooling tracks of sweat that marked her face and neck.

The cot shifted behind her as a sizeable weight settled on it. Then there was a hand on her back again, gentle, stroking.

There was a pillow crushed underneath her shoulders, she realised, and a blanket twisted terribly about her legs.

“Hey,” Said Bull, warm and kind, “Focus on me, just on me.”

She stiffened, his hand stroked down her back, playing across the muscles, leaving softly tingling trails behind it. The back of one of his knuckles brushed against the dip between her shoulder blades, then fingers splayed down her back, moving together in gentle, smooth strokes that sent little bursts of calm rippling across her like water in a pond. She felt herself slowly start to uncurl, her eyes slowly start to open, revealing a small room bathed in candlelight, stars visible through a just-open window. There was the crackle and pop of a fire on the edge of her hearing, but it was the sound of a small, contained blaze, and it contained none of the heat of dragonflame.

The hand on her back went to the blankets tangled about her legs and started to set them to rights, slowly freeing her from their tangle. When she could easily move her legs again, she rolled onto her back, looking up at the high ceiling above her, spreading her arms wide on either side. A dull, hot ache came from the elbow of her left arm, she looked towards it and was not surprised to see bandages wrapped around her elbow and nothing beyond it.

She looked away from the bandages and back up to the ceiling, feeling hollow and more tired than she could ever remember.

A grey skinned hand with two fingers missing from it passed through her field of vision before falling to cup her cheek. She pressed into it absently, it’s thumb ran across her lip, once, before it gently turned her head.

Bull’s face entered her fsight, worry in the lines of his face, the faint downward curve of his lips, the crease in the muscles between his brow. His eye was green and clear, small flecks of steely grey in its depths, but warm like a field on a summer day. She opened her mouth to say something, frowned slightly when no sound came out.

“Kadan,” He said, (she watched his lips move) “You’re okay. You’re safe. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” His thumb stroked her lips again, kind, caring, “I’m gonna move my hand and put it on your stomach, okay? Nice and easy.”

His fingers lifted from her face, then slid slowly down the silk – _night gown. I’m wearing a nightgown._ – clothing she was in, splaying over her stomach in a barely-there touch. She tensed, then slowly relaxed as his fingers did little more than rest.

“Feel that?” He asked quietly, face still warm and kind, “Just me, just you.”

His fingers dipped over her navel, slid up to just below her breastbone and back in slow, stroking motions. She breathed in deep and felt the press of them against her, let the air in her lungs out slowly as her heart started to calm.

She reached her hand towards his face, he caught it before it got there, with the hand not stroking her stomach, and kissed her fingertips, the brush of his lips against her oh-so-familiar, even for their butterfly-soft nature.

_Hissrad! Please! Now!_

_Not a chance, Ma’am!_

“Bull,” She sighed, last of her nightmare fleeing her in the face of the truth, and he smiled at her as he kissed her fingertips again.

“There you are,” He said gently, “You okay?”

He might have asked the same thing if she stubbed her toe.

Hot tears spilled out of her, suddenly, as the dam on her emotions shattered against his kindness. He gently gathered her up then, pressed her to his chest, one hand wrapped around her waist, the other in her hair. Her remaining arm came up and around him, clinging as tightly as she was able, and she pressed her face against his chest and sobbed.

\---

Her arm hurt.

 _Understatement, really_ , she thought as the mark flared angrily at her where she slumped against the wall of Halamshiral’s noble bathing chambers, trying not to scream.

The throbbing passed for a moment, long enough for her to open her eyes and gasp, before it was back stronger than ever. The pain made a stark contrast against the cheery glow of the room – candles burnt merrily in sconces, the blue mosaic tiles under her were warmed by fires stoked about the room and in the centre of the floor was what she had been using mere moments before – a sunken, magically warmed pool that was refreshed with clear water steadily from a trickling stream that ran along the floor on one side of the room. She didn’t know where the stream came from, and as her hand pulsed again, she found she was in far too much agony to care, even for all her curiosity beforehand.

She closed her eyes and gripped her hand at the elbow, squeezing sharply in an effort to feel something over the electricity spilling through her blood.

When the mark had flared, she’d fallen to her knees but somehow managed to crawl her way to the wall of the chamber which she was now slumped against as the pain slowly began to ebb once more. The wave of light was beginning to fade, tingling rushing to her fingertips as her nerves continued firing even in the absence of other sensation. She swallowed, closed her eyes and gasped, feeling her chest heave as her body fought to right itself.

She needed to get up.

With a groan, she tried to get her hand underneath her, whimpering slightly when it slipped on the tiles, phantom sensation shooting up her arm.

“Come on, Kal. You can do this.” She clenched her teeth together, “At least I had my clothes back on before the mark flared. This would be embarrassing otherwise.”

_As if it’s not embarrassing now. The great Inquisitor! Oh how people will laugh if they see me now – brought down by my own damn hand as a punishment for trying to use powers beyond my control._

_Never mind that it’s the power that got me the damn title in the first place._

There was a fluttering movement in her belly that Kalasin took to be agreement. She let out a huff of laughter and tried to get her feet under her once more. “Now you choose to move, you little monster. Of course the first time’s just after I was told that I’ll die before I get to meet you.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Kadan?”

She closed her eyes and held back the low groan that threatened to spill from her. She tried again to push herself to her feet and failed. She grumbled to herself, she needed to be back to rights before he came in, before he could see just how bad this was getting. She pushed her feet underneath her and staggered upwards through sheer force of will, all the while trying to convince herself that the shoulder she leant on the wall wasn’t something she needed to hold herself up.

“I’m in here,” She called, or tried to. The mark flared again mid-word, lurid green racing up the walls and high pillars of the room around her. She cried out, eyes snapping shut as the light flared around her brighter and brighter, and her legs gave out once more. She landed painfully on her knees as pain ripped through her, though she managed to clench her teeth around the cry and choke it back before she could do anything she regretted, like _scream_.

Over the crackling of the mark, she heard footsteps, hurried, one weighted with a slight limp, then Bull’s arms were around her, gathering her up into his chest and holding her close.  He didn’t say anything, for which she was grateful, just held her tight as the lightning crackled up her arm in sickening pulses.

Eventually, the pain passed, as it always did, leaving her sagging against Bull’s chest and aware of little save another flutter of protest in her abdomen.

“How bad is it?” Bull asked at last, voice haunted.

Kalasin closed her eyes and nearly laughed from the bitter feeling welling in her chest, “It’s going to kill me,” She told him, “The healer thinks sooner, rather than later.”

His arms around her clenched into a vicelike hold, and his lips found the top of her head, “It tries,” He said, voice shaky, “And we cut it off, go running for the hills. You, me and the Chargers.”

“And the world dies,” She finished.

“Fuck the world.”

She opened her eyes at the vehemence in his voice, and brought one of her hands up to his chest. “The world has you in it, though.”

“Well, yeah, that’s a pretty good argument in its favour, but it’s also got the Venatori. Have you met those guys? They’re assholes.”

She couldn’t quite bring herself to laugh, though she could tell he’d just said it because he wanted her to (after all, if she laughed then this wasn’t real); and they fell into a tense silence - her caught up in his embrace, him trembling around her as he held her as close as he could without hurting her.

“Marry me.”

Bull stiffened, ever so slightly, “Say again, Kadan?”

The words had slipped out unbidden, but now she found she couldn’t quite bring herself to take them back.

“Marry me?” She asked again, uncertain, looking up at his face. He was considering her closely, a guarded musing in his eye. There was also a deep sadness in the lines of his face, but he didn’t look at all surprised. She frowned, “I’m not just asking because of the mark, though that is a part of it. And you don’t have to if you’d rather not. The ceremony is rather ridiculous and I’m being selfish even asking, especially right now –”

“Kadan.”

She fell quiet.

Bull shifted so that they were sitting apart and she could see him properly before he answered. He brought one hand up to cup her cheek, tangled the other with her good hand. He was smiling at her, sad and resigned.

“I choose you every day,” He said gently, “I don’t need anything more than that.”

Her heart fell a little, even as he leaned in and kissed her, just the once. Tender and self-assured, confident and kind. All the things she loved about him in that kiss.

“If you’re selfish for asking,” He said, when he pulled away, “I’m gonna be selfish answering. You wanna make this official, you don’t get the easy way out. You come through this alive and fighting. You don’t give in to that shitty thing on your arm.”

He grunted, “When we’re done here, then we’ll make this official any way you like.”

“But only when we’re done here.” Kalasin said, the mark on her arm pulsing, “That’s the condition?”

“That’s the condition.”

She smiled at him, and let a wry twist enter her voice when she responded, “I think I can live with that.”

He didn’t laugh. In fact, his expression settled into deathly seriousness as he caught her lips with his own in a kiss that this time was crushing, demanding, full of pain.

Then he pulled back, looked her directly in the eye and said, “That’s the idea.”

He sounded more serious then than he had in all the time she’d known him.

\---

Bull held her until the tears ran their course - just holding, nothing more – and then kept holding her as she rested in his arms, quiet and still. She knew from experience that he would stay as long as she wanted him to, and though she was ready to take advantage of that and hide from Halamshiral as long as she possibly could, her stomach gave a mighty rumble that shattered the tranquillity of the room.

She groaned and pressed her head against Bull’s chest, which rumbled underneath her in a chuckle.

“Hungry, Kadan?”

“I’m not,” She said, “The little parasite in me is.”

As if in agreement, the ‘parasite’ fluttered against her ribcage.

“Should probably feed the both of you, then.” Bull said, straightening and shifting his arms from around her. As he let her go, however, his hand trailed down her arm to catch her remaining hand and tangle their fingers together. She relished in the lingering feeling of the silk sliding against her arm.

She slipped her legs over the side of the bed, then, bumped shoulders with him once before placing her bare feet on the cold ground. He grumbled next to her and stood from the cot, moving so that he could offer his hand to help her up.

“For the record, I don’t think you getting out of bed just yet is a good idea.” He helped her to her feet with a tug and steadied her when the change in balance nearly sent her toppling to the ground again. One side of her felt far too light, lopsided, really. She refused to look at her missing arm.

“I need to be seen by Halamshiral, and _I_ have to be the one that decides what happens next with the Inquisition, not a committee,” She told him, “But yes, it’s probably a terrible decision.”

“Especially as you’re half-dead and hurting.” He shrugged, “Wait here a moment, I’m gonna grab you some clothes. Enough people have seen you in that shitty nightgown already.”

“Enough people?”

“The healer, me, Krem. Dorian looked in, but I’m not sure he counts considering he was more concerned with yelling at me than checking over you at the time.” Bull wandered around the bed to a neatly folded pile left in the corner. This, he rummaged through, tugging out a freshly laundered tunic and some tights.

“That’s… four.”

“And four is enough,” Bull stated simply, returning to her and putting the clothes down on her now-abandoned cot. He brought his hands up to the button on the nightgown that secured her collar, “Or are you going to argue with me about this?”

There was the slightest hint of warning in Bull’s tone, and it set a shiver racing over Kalasin’s skin. She swallowed, feeling his fingers at her throat, then felt her tongue dart out to lick at her suddenly dry lips.

She brought her hand up to the button below the one he was fiddling with, trying to work it loose. He grunted at her, took her hand and placed it at back at her side.

“I need to learn to do this,” She complained, reaching up and being rebuffed once more.

“And you can learn later,” Bull told her firmly, “Unless you’re wanting your punishment to be worse when it happens.”

Kalasin’s hand stilled at her side, a thrill of confusion rolling up from her belly, “Punishment?”

“Well, I have to talk to the healer first, find out what I can and can’t do to you at the moment, but yeah.” He kept sliding butoons free as he spoke, “You kept a pretty big secret from me, Kadan, and lied to me in the process. Did you really think you were getting out of it that easy?”

She trembled, catching her lip between her teeth and resisting the urge to reach up and grab the stump of her missing arm. She felt her nervousness grow a little because, _damn her_ , she had thought so.

Bull chuckled, hands slipping lower down her front, brushing over her breasts in a touch meant to tease, “You’ve been a _very_ bad pet,” His voice was deep, rich velvet, lined with dark promise, “The things you forget when I go –” His voice caught suddenly as his hands slid into her gown to brush over her stomach. His whole body stilled to sudden alertness.

“Bull?”

She looked up at him, at the queer expression on his face, as he moved to work the other buttons free, pushing the nightgown off her shoulders when he could so that it pooled around her feet. She shivered in the cool air, standing before him in nothing but her smalls. She wanted to take a step towards him, she wanted to reach out and touch him, but she wasn’t entirely sure what had caused his hesitation.

“Vhenan, what is it?”

His hands moved, lingering in the air above her abdomen for a moment, before gingerly, reverently settling on her hips. “How the fuck did I miss this?”

She followed the direction of his gaze, down to the ever-so-slight swelling of her stomach. Her lip caught between her teeth again, this time to stop herself from smiling.

“The armour helped,” She admitted, referring to the dalish set that she’d been wearing, “It was looser than what I would normally wear and I knew you’d interpret it as a subtle insult to Orlais and not realise there was a second reason behind it. That, and the Inquisition uniform isn’t exactly form-fitting when I was out of the armour.” She hesitated, then looked up at him, her nerves suddenly making themselves known once more, “I didn’t want you to figure it out before I had a chance to tell you, and then, well…” She trailed off.

“You decided not to tell me,” Bull finished quietly, “Started lying to me about it, even. Shit, Kadan.”

She winced and looked away, “I didn’t want you to hurt for us both if I died.”

Bull’s hand came to her chin, roughly dragging her back so that she was looking at him. Then, when he had her attention, he kissed her, roughly, demanding and pained all at once. She mewled in surprise, the hand still on her hip dragged her forward into him, squeezing almost hard enough to bruise.

She gasped, heat shooting through her, he took advantage of her open mouth to bite down on her lip – sharp and sudden – and she made the slightest noise of complaint to the spike of pain that accompanied that. He growled, a bolt of desire ran over her skin.

He dragged her closer, pulling away from the kiss, tugging her lip with his teeth almost gently. He didn’t give her time to catch her breath before he was kissing her again, crushing her lips with his own. She tried to keep up with him as best she could, but he was insistent and desperate and, of all the things she never thought he would be, perhaps a little lost.

Kalasin sighed, bringing her hands up to come around him, though she moved too quickly and remembered only too late that one of her hands was now gone.

The stump of her arm banged into Bull’s side, sending a rush of pain through her that overrode any desire she was feeling. She cried out at the agony, and Bull’s lips were off her immediately as he pulled away from the kiss and away from her as well.

“Shit, Kadan, _shit._ ”

Her arm throbbed, and she grit her teeth against the pain, bringing her other hand up to it and smiling in self-depreciation.

“I’m sorry,” She said quietly.

Bull looked at her for a long moment – not in any way judgemental, his eye soft and warm – more with a careful consideration.

He stepped back forward into her space, wrapping his arms about her shoulders. “You’re alive,” He said, somewhere above her, “That’s all that’s important to me. Don’t apologise.”

He let her go, bringing his hand up to the side of her face, cupping her cheek, thumb running over her lip. “Though, we should get you dressed so we can get you some food.” Then he shrugged, tilted his head at her and gave her a lopsided smirk, “Though you can just walk out there in your smalls, if you want, give Halamshiral a hell of a show.”

She laughed and rested her hand on his chest, looking at it as if she were considering his offer, “As tempting as that is, I’d rather not disgrace the Inquisition any further.”

He grinned and reached down to her arms, being all-too-gentle with the one that was still throbbing. He gently slid his hands up their length, pushing them up so that they were above her head. She held them there as he reached down and around her to where her tunic was on the bed.

The tunic slipped down and around her, leaving her lost in a world of fabric for just a moment before it settled about her shoulders. Bull gently tugged her hair free of the garment, eye crinkling at the edges and lips tugging upwards as he looked at her.

“Shame,” He said, “We’re covering up a hell of a view.”

He tied up the lacing near her neck, gently sliding his hands over her clavicle and pushing her arms back down. Then, he pressed down on her shoulders, “Sit.”

She did, on the edge of the bed.

He knelt in front of her and kissed the inside of her knee as his hand slid up her calf. He pulled her foot towards him so he could slip her breeches over it.

She ran her hand over his head, where she could feel the beginnings of stubble growing, and though she felt him smile against her thigh, he grumbled in a way that was impossible to mistake for anything other than a warning.

She put her hand back to the bed.

He slipped her other foot into her pants and pulled them up to her knees, biting the inside of her thigh sharp and hard. She gasped at the pain that shot through her, but found her head tilting back, eyes sliding closed as he followed the bite with a trail of kisses starting at the mark and slowly working closer and closer to her centre.

“You know,” She said, voice breathy, “If you keep dressing me like this, you’re just going to end up undressing me again.”

He pulled away from her leg, looking up at her with dark eyes and a darker smirk, “That’s assuming I have any intent of leaving you satisfied, Kadan.” His expression was as dangerous as a knife, “Not sure you deserve it after what you’ve been pulling, and I kinda like the idea of you struggling through a meeting with your head full of thoughts about how – good – I – make – you – feel.” He punctuated each word with a nip, pulling away from her before he was anywhere close to the heat that was now building between her legs.

She whined at the loss of contact, he chuckled.

“Stand.”

“ _Now_?” Kalasin yelped, but she did so even with her legs turned to jelly. She knew better than to disobey.

The line of bites up her thigh tingled as Bull pulled her breeches over her hips and fastened them. He stood before her, satisfied smirk on his features and nothing at all in his posture that indicated he had any intention of going any further.

“You’re an _evil_ man,” She told him, not caring that her tone was bordering on petulance.

He reached out at that, and slid a finger down the exposed side of her neck, smirk growing more prominent as she whined in discomfort. Every inch of him was lined with smug satisfaction. “Let’s see about getting you some food,” He said, moving towards the door.

She made a noise of complaint and forced her wobbly legs to move. She told herself she wasn’t grateful when he offered his arm to her in order to help her keep her balance. “I might hate you just a little bit right now.”

Her stomach, however, chose that moment to rumble loudly, and Bull chuckled as he led them both carefully to the door and beyond.

\---

“You’re really leaving, then.”

Dorian had the grace to look guilty at least as he stood in front of her. “Family duty,” He said, “You know how it is.”

Kalasin tried to feel like the fancy Orlesian rug she was standing on hadn’t just been pulled from under her feet as she looked at her friend. The Exalted Council had been full of surprises, from Varric effectively giving her a mansion through to teaching Thom (and wasn’t that still so strange by itself) how to use a throwing knife properly, but this was by far one of the worse surprises she’d had. Dorian had tried to ease it in his way, with a present and a series of terribly dry jokes, but it still stung as she watched him idly tug a strap on his outfit back into place.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” He said, flapping a hand at her, “You’ll hardly notice that I’m gone.” He hesitated, “Well, except for the suddenly _appalling_ lack of style contained within Skyhold, of course, though I doubt _you’d_ notice that.”

She glared at him, “Ass.”

“Yes, I have a rather good one, I’ve been told.”

She couldn’t keep up her mock annoyance in the face of his flagrant pretend-vanity, however, and her expression cracked in the tiniest twitch of her lips.

“There you go, see? You know it too.” Dorian sighed and folded his arms across his chest, “I’m horrid at goodbyes and heartfelt gestures,” He told her, “But if I weren’t, I’d definitely say something saccharine about how I’m going to miss you.”

“I don’t believe that at all,” Kalasin told him, “You’ll be so busy, you won’t even notice.”

“My ears have grown rather used to your incessant nagging that I be a better person – they won’t know what to do with the sudden silence,” Dorian replied, raising an eyebrow at her, “And my coffers will certainly notice when I’m paying my family’s servants their living wage.”

It took Kalasin a moment to register what he’d said, but when she did, both of her eyebrows went shooting up to her hairline. “Sorry, did you say _servants_?”

“Oh, haven’t I told you? I’ve freed all of House Pavus’ slaves and reinstated them as paid workers. All thanks to you, I should mention. Your ranting at me did eventually manage to change my mind on the matter.” He sighed, “Plus, after all of our conversations, I must admit that the thought of _owning_ other people now leaves somewhat of a bad taste in my mouth.”

“I –” Kalasin swallowed, trying to form a reply to that and failing miserably. In the end, all she could manage was, “Dorian, that’s _incredible._ ”

“Incredibly stupid, more like.” The mage shrugged, “I’ll be beggared within the year. But everyone always loves a martyr – we have you for proof of that – so I find that I can’t bring myself to be too angry with you.”

She laughed at that, because the smug satisfaction behind his words was so very _him_ , and she’d miss his manner and intelligence more than their friendship actually allowed her to tell him.

“Thank you,” She said, at last.

“Oh, don’t do that. You know I despise gratitude, particularly when I don’t deserve it.”

He brought one arm up and around her shoulders in a slightly uncertain hug which she returned with much more confidence. She was immediately enveloped in a smoky scent that carried hints of pennyroyal and spice.

“Dorian?”

“Yes, my friend?”

“Are you seriously wearing cologne?”

Dorian made a noise of disgust, “Southerners!” He admonished, not letting her go, “No sense of sophistication whatsoever!”

She pinched him, hard and sharp, and he hastened to let her go, pushing her back and holding her in front of him at arms-length. After a moment, his outraged expression softened.

“You will be fine without me?” He asked, tone serious, “If you’re ever not, you have the crystal. Call me and I will be with you as soon as I am able.”

“I will,” Kalasin assured him.

“Because I worry at the thought of you going mad without my incredible good looks to sustain you.”

“I’ll be _fine_ , Dorian!” Kalasin said, close to laughing again.

The mage smirked at her, “In all seriousness, Inquisitor – you have, despite my complete disgust at the very idea, become a good friend. I loathe you for it.” He pulled her head towards him and kissed her on her forehead, “Know that I will be there for you whenever you need it for as long as you need it.” He pulled away and gave her a rakish, sidelong smirk, “And know that if ever your qunari does something to you that you don’t want him to, I will most certainly kill him.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that last one at all,” Kalasin said, “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Yes, well, I must leave you without my glorious presence,” Dorian told her, “As I have a few people to see before the council later. And I also have to see if I can find any more of that rather remarkable ham. It still tastes of despair – it’s _fascinating._ ”

With that, he gave her a half smile and she waved him on, shaking her head only ever so slightly. When she was sure he was out of earshot she went and sat on the bench next to where her qunari was sprawled on the ground, snoring.

“You can wake up, now,” She told Bull, “He’s gone.”

She received no response.

Frowning, she looked over the side of the chair to where Bull was still making a very convincing attempt to pretend to be asleep.

“Vhenan, you don’t use King’s Tongue in your sleep, and would certainly never to talk to your Tama. I know you’re awake.”

“Caught that, did you?” Bull asked without opening his eye, “Thought you would, wasn’t sure.”

“No-one else seemed to realise.” She reached down and ran her hand over the horn that was closest to her, “But then, I suppose I have a fairly rare advantage over them.”

At this, Bull did open his eye, “Not a unique one?”

“I love you, Bull, but there’s more than one person in the world who has slept in the same bed as you before.”

“Only one who’s heard me sleep talk, though,” He said, sitting up. He moved so that he could lean against her bench, moving his arm so he could loop it around her calf, fingers brushing idle patterns over the fine bones of her ankle, “Never used to sleep deep enough for that.”

She leant over and kissed the top of his head, strangely touched. She went back to gently petting him, sliding her fingers over his horns, delighting in their texture, the sudden, abrupt shift from horn to the leather strap that held his eyepatch in place, then to the feel of his skin. She basked in the moment, neither of them saying anything, far enough away from the main thoroughfare that they weren’t catching eyes, though close enough to still be easily found if needed.

But in the end, she found herself needing to break the comfortable silence. “Bull?”

He made a vague noise of assent.

She opened her mouth, words on the tip of her tongue, to tell him what she needed to before the opportunity passed her by again, and –

“Inquisitor! There you are! The meeting with the Fereldan ambassador is just about to start and I have been looking everywhere for you!”

She looked up, moment shattered, to see a frantic Josephine headed towards her. She sighed and stood to move towards the ambassador stopping only because the hand on her leg lightly squeezed her calf.

She looked down at Bull to see him giving her a peculiar look – thoughtful, but not calculating. “What is it?” He asked.

“It’s…” She hesitated, then sighed as Josephine came within earshot of the two of them. “Not important.” She ran her hand over his head one last time, “I’ll tell you later.”

He grunted acceptance of that, but didn’t let go of her calf. “Be careful, Kadan,” He said, “There’s something in the water. Haven’t figured out yet quite what it is, but the servants are jumpy. Spoke to Sera and she thinks so too.”

“I will.” Kalasin replied.

He grunted again and let her leg go, and she moved towards a Josephine who was now frantically gesturing towards her.

She swallowed the uneasy lump in her throat.

\---

There was a celebration in full swing when Kalasin and Bull reached the tavern. Soldiers and servants alike cheered as they entered, the swell of celebration only growing in the presence of their Herald and her qunari (The only good one in the lot, a drunk Ferelden kitchenhand informed them before raising his tankard in a salute, swinging it back to drink from it and promptly falling off his chair.)

The tavern was loud and raucous, and Kalasin was content to see that though there was a lot of drinking to be done by the patrons, they were also being provided with food by the kitchen staff as well. As she entered, she found a fresh ale pressed into her hands – one that she immediately passed up to Bull – and then found she was pulled into a ferocious hug by a strong-armed woman who squeezed her about the ribs so hard Kalasin thought she felt one of them crack. The hug set her arm to pulsing hotly, complaining it’s discomfort of the treatment immediately, and Kalasin sighed relief when she was let go.

But it was only to be caught up by someone else – an Orlesian in a half-mask who kissed her full on the cheek then passed her on to another person who slapped her on the back, to another who took her hand and pumped it up and down fiercely and for longer than was proper. She felt her face burning as her head swum, as she was spun from person to person, only managing to grab glimpses of each, before she was pushed on. There was a riot of colour, of sound, the scent of ale covered it all and her arm was throbbing – throbbing – throbbing –

“Alright, that’s enough.”

Bull was suddenly at her side, hand on her shoulder to steady her, coming to stand behind her protectively. His size managed to do what her lack of it couldn’t and the area around her was suddenly clear except for the warm press of his stomach against her back. She sagged backward for just a moment out of gratitude, before she forced herself to straighten and give off the proper Inquisition aura.

Her arm still hurt, but as her heart slowed, the throbbing went with it and Bull led them through the crowd with an ease she never would have managed were she by herself. She let herself be led, the hand on her shoulder trailing down her back before it came to rest on her ass almost possessively. She glared up at Bull, but he wasn’t looking at her, whether by accident or design she couldn’t really tell. (Though knowing him, it was most definitely by design.)

The Chargers seemed to appear from nowhere, spreading themselves about the tavern in a way that was both subtle and clever – they didn’t seem to be acting as a buffer between the Inquisitor and the tavern, but they prevented people from coming closer by drawing them into conversations about the room, conversations at a convenient distance to Bull and herself.

Bull moved them to the bar and he sat on what had become Bull’s stool in much the same way as his chair back at Skyhold. She settled onto the seat next to him and frowned as a bowl of food seemed to appear in front of her as if by magic. A quick glance over her shoulder at Krem confirmed her suspicions, for all his skill in other areas, the man had a terrible poker face and the slight smile in his eyes told her that the Chargers had been preparing for their eventual arrival ahead of time.

She didn’t say anything, however, and eventually Krem went back to chatting with Maryden in a blithe manner that didn’t fool her in the slightest. She turned back to the bowl in front of it and studied its’ contents warily.

It was a stew, full of gravy and thickly cut vegetables, and when the smell of it failed to turn her stomach (a feat in and of itself to be proud of – she had thought she would be doomed to bread and water for the next month at least) she took a tentative bite.

When this, too, proved safe, she began to eat.

If someone asked her later, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them what flavour the stew was, or even any of the vegetables in it, because once she found she could eat it, an almost ravenous hunger set in that meant her bowl was empty within minutes, and the bread she’d been given with it – completely gone. Bull chuckled at her appetite, tilting his head and grinning.

“Want some more?” He asked, her ale in his hand, confident king of his domain. She shook her head slightly, but said nothing.

Sera decided to take that moment to push through the throng of people and settle herself on the countertop next to them, legs swinging.

“Heard you made a whole lot of people dead who needed it,” she said, prodding Kalasin in the side with her toe, “Also heard you stopped a lot of shite from exploding, including yourself.”

Kalasin didn’t say anything about the abruptness of the conversation, “I had help,” She told the other elf, somewhat dry.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sara waved that away with airy grace, “Bad people still stopped, servants still happy. Couldn’t you have done it in a less stop-this-or-die-trying way, though?”

“Tell me about it,” Muttered Bull from Kalasin’s other side.

“Careful, Sera, that almost sounds like you care.”

“Course I care, idiot,” Sera reached out and pushed Kalasin in her non-injured shoulder, “Gotta look after my Jennies, right?”

“What’s this?” Bull interjected sharply.

Kalasin sighed, resisting the urge to put her hand to her forehead, “For now it’s just honorary,” She shot a nasty glare at Sera who didn’t seem at all put out by the action, “I’m still Inquisitor first and foremost.”

Sera rocked back slightly on the benchtop, before leaning forward and swiping her finger through the gravy left in Kalasin’s empty bowl. She casually licked it off before she answered, “From what I hear, Orlais and Ferelden wanna take that title from you real bad.”

She reached for the bowl again, Kalasin moved it away.

“It’s a good thing, too,” Sera added, grinning, “You’re not enough of a prick to be a noble.”

A server placed another pint of ale before Kalasin, then, and one in front of Bull as well.

Kalasin looked at hers, sighed, and passed it across to Sera, who froze, looked at the ale in front of her suspiciously, then back to Kalasin.

“You’re _not._ ”

_Oh dear._

Something must have shown on Kalasin’s face because Sera’s suspicious look bloomed into a full grin, that while not malicious was far too wickedly amused for Kalasin’s comfort.

“You _are!_ ” The elf cackled, ( _cackled!_ ) doubling over onto herself and looking up at Kalasin, eyes bright sparks of glee, “You’re up the duff!” Her voice, thankfully, didn’t carry through the raucous noise of the crowd, “Oh this is too good! He knocked you up!”

She burst into another fit of giggles, this one leaving her almost wheezing for air.

Bull, for his part, gave a disgusted grunt, “Oh _come on_ , that’s not fair!”

This made Sera laugh even harder, and for a long time Kalasin could get no sense from either of her companions – Bull lost to his grumbling about _who was the Ben Hassrath here, anyway?_ And Sera far too amused for anything like decorum. When Sera had at last settled, Kalasin braced herself, sighed, and asked, “How did you know?”

“First thing the noble girls _always_ give up is the drink. Even when they’re pretending they’re not. You hear servants all the time talk about how this one’s off the drink and wondering which of the suitors are in the shit. Surprised more people here haven’t worked it out watching you.”

“I’ve been busy,” Kalasin said dryly. This sent the other elf laughing again.

“I’ll say!” She exclaimed when she came up for air.

This set Bull to chuckling and, surrounded by children, Kalasin couldn’t help but follow the two of them. Sera drank greedily from the pint in front of them, then slammed it down on the table, “Scuse me,” She said, when she was done, “I’ve gotta tell my Widdles all about this.”

“Sera – _Sera – get back here, Sera!_ ” It was too late, however, as the elf had darted off through the crowd and disappeared.

“Guess the cat’s out of the bag, now,” Bull said, even as Kalasin put her head in her hand.

His arm looped around her and drew her into his side. She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, biting back the groan that threatened to spill out of her.

Bull squeezed her, once, then relaxed his grip, fingers drumming over the ball of her shoulder.

Kalasin let herself ignore for a moment the unpleasant throbbing in her arm for the comfort of his warmth around her; his scent filling her nose – slightly stale from being by her side in an Orlesian bedroom-come-respite for so long but still him underneath it, sword polish, leather and something unique to Bull that she could never quite name; the feel of his chest rising and falling along her side.

“Bull,” She said quietly, he grunted to show he was listening, “What I said in the bath –”

“Was wondering when you were going to bring this up,” Bull said, but he sounded unconcerned, so Kalasin pressed on.

“We don’t have to, if you’d really rather not.” She told him quietly, keeping her eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to face whatever expression was on his face. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if it were relief. “It’s honestly not all that important to me.”

“That’s a shame,” Bull said, “If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have got this made for you.”

She blinked her eyes open as he shifted next to her, and looked up at his face. He wasn’t looking at her, but there was a definite pull to his lip and crinkle around his eye. His fist gently bumped her chest, she looked down.

His hand opened.

On his palm rested an intricately carved wooden ring. She blinked at it, then up to him where he was now giving her a sidelong look, smugness in every inch of him.

She looked back down to the ring in his hand, and found herself fixating on the one thing she could understand in this situation, “That’s _ironbark_ ,” She said, “Only dalish master craftsmen can make anything out of it.”

“Luckily I seem to have picked up a surprising number of connections to dalish clans,” Bull said, “Did a few favours for a clan on the way back after that mission the Boys and I went on, enough favours that they agreed to make it for me. Meant we were delayed coming back though, and had to meet you here instead of back home.”

She blinked, the last word of that echoing through her head and filling her with more warmth than it had any right to. She looked up at him once more, and found herself too stunned to form any semblance of a reply.

“This is the part where you say ‘Yes’, Your Worship,” Krem called, helpfully, from where he and the other Chargers were pretending not to watch the exchange. At his side, Maryden made a ‘go on’ motion with her hand.

“You planned this,” Kalasin hissed at Bull as she reached for the ring. Bull’s fingers curled around it and he tugged his hand back,

“Course I did,” He told her with a smile, “But I’m still not letting you get it that easily. What do you say?”

“You ass.”

Bull grinned and leaned into her space, face scant inches from hers. “Close enough,” He said, and kissed her.

And it wasn’t perfect, not what she’d ever imagined in those moments where she’d been vain enough to imagine this. She was tired, her arm throbbed and she was still very much in trouble with the man kissing her, but as she felt Bull reach with perfect accuracy to her hand, felt him slip the ring on her finger, heard the cheers of the Chargers (and a muffled curse from Skinner) and felt warm and secure and at _home –_

Well, it wasn’t the way she’d imagined any of this going, but Bull was right.

It was close enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all she wrote, quite literally in fact!
> 
> Thanks for staying through this one to the end, guys! It was less of a pregnancy fic than I was expecting, but I hope you all enjoyed it anyway. 
> 
> Now on to finishing off the other multi-chapters I've ignored for favour of this thing. I might write more of what happens next at a later date, Kal's still got six-and-a-bit months of pregnancy to go and I still haven't explored everything I want to about that. But for now, it's done!


End file.
